


moats and boats and waterfalls

by drivingnotwashing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (very minor but still), Body Dysphoria, Curses, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Impregnation Kink, Incest Kink, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Sibling Incest, Slurs, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, dean is a freak okay, sampussy nation rise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28906908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drivingnotwashing/pseuds/drivingnotwashing
Summary: When Sam goes on his first real hunt, he's cursed by a creature that only attacks women and virgins. Sam is neither, but when he wakes up, feverish and hurt from the beast's fucked up mojo, he's got something new between his legs and Dean, well Dean doesn't seem as interested as Sam thought he'd be.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 50
Kudos: 127





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! here is a fic i blame entirely on the wincest discord server! perverts! this is all your fault!  
> anyway, it's kinky sex where sam gets cursed with a vagina, it's not deep, it doesn't try to make a message on anything but if you feel like you could be triggered by sam's dysphoria or a curse that changes sam's genitals, please don't read! there is also a very minor and passing use of a slur so, keep yourself safe! this also mentions sibling incest and underage sex starting when sam as twelve so if that is also triggering, don't read!!
> 
> as always i hope you enjoy it and have fun reading my mess <3

The light on Sam’s face is distracting, it doesn’t hurt, but it’s so bright on his eyelids that he rolls and turns trying to chase it away. It’s too early for this, he doesn’t know what time it actually is but too soon is his answer. He tries to get close to Dean, he shares a bed with his brother in almost every motel they end up in, and Dean’s warmth is always so soothing in the early mornings, he throws an arm across the bed, grabbing at the covers, the space beside him is empty and cold. He opens his eyes and lifts his body up.

Dean isn’t next to him, nor is his in one of the corners’ of the room, getting dressed after his shower. Sam is alone, it shouldn't scare him like this, he’s fifteen, there’s a silver knife under his pillow and a handgun in the bedside table, but he’s so used to Dean’s presence, so used to the weight of his brother’s gaze in his shoulders, that protective, slightly overbearing, way Dean has of wrapping himself around Sam that when he isn’t here, Sam feels unbalanced, like one of his limbs is missing and he’s trying to stand still with his equilibrium skewed. 

He gets out of bed, he feels feverish, clammy and damp all over. He wobbles on his feet, there’s an ache in his lower back and a sort of weight on his stomach he can’t pin down. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, he doesn’t know either why he’s wearing one of his dad’s shirt, one that’s so big on him it falls off his shoulder, and one of dean’s pajama pants, the end of it dragging on the ground. He doesn’t remember how he got back to the motel, or how he got in bed. His head is spinning with pain and confusion, he walks towards the door, leaning on the walls to not fall down.

People are talking outside of the bedroom, it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to recognise his father and brother’s voices. He could join them, maybe let Dean make him breakfast, he’s been complaining about all the mother henning Dean puts him through recently, but he feels shitty enough right now to let his brother pamper him a bit, Dean will be over the moon. But something keeps him inside the room, something in his father’s voice, worry that makes the rumble in his father’s throat clipped and cold. Dean isn’t much better, he seems panicked, almost hysterical. Sam presses his ear to the door and listens.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Dean says, muffled a bit, like he’s biting at his nails, “You said they only attack women, you said he’d be okay.”

“That thing was desperate, when they’re cornered and need to feed, they go through other means, but I didn’t-”

“Is he going to stay like this? What can we do?”

“I’m going to find a cure,” His father seems unnerved too, “Dean, I’ll find something.”

“And if you don’t? What are we gonna do?”

“We’re not there yet, let’s go one step at a time.”

“Dad, I can’t, you weren’t there when it got to him.” Tears in Dean’s voice, something hopeless, “He screamed and, he, he was thrashing around like it was burning him from the inside.”

“I’ll find a cure, Dean, I promise. I swear I will.”

Silence now, so deep that Sam wants to throw the door open and break it, then something tentative, a sound from his brother’s throat, like he’s asking for comfort. Dean hasn’t asked anything from their father in years, he follows the instructions; he obeys the orders and never asks for anything in exchange. Hearing Dean begs without words for a consoling hand on his back, breaks something in Sam.

They were talking about him, he knows it, but he’s not sure what it was about. Sure, he feels a little sick, but nothing life-threatening, he’s sore, like you get with a bad cold. He barely remembers the hunt, he did the research for it, something about an energy eating dragon-like creature that fed on virgin maidens, very medieval, very stupid. It feared elderberry, Dean made some sort of syrup with it and dipped their blades and bullets in it. He doesn’t remember getting attacked, he knows that one minute he was standing behind his brother with his gun raised and the other he was bedridden like the dying. 

This wasn’t his first hunt, but it was the first time he’d gone against something alive. His Dad had been okay with taking him on ghosts and spirits cases, salt and burns that didn’t ask too much of him except holding a flashlight or digging soft ground. He hadn’t wanted to come on this one, researching lore was fun but there was absolutely nothing interesting in shooting and killing a creature, at least not to him. But his Dad had said that he was old enough to truly learn the job now, that Dean had gone through a lot more when he was younger and it was only fair that Sam helped. 

Apparently, it had gone wrong. Still, Sam doesn’t get why Dean is acting like death is at their doors. Sam’s fine, after a hot shower and one or two grilled cheeses, he’ll be as good as new. 

“If it doesn’t work out,” Dean whispers, so low that if Sam wasn’t still pressed to the door, he wouldn’t hear it, “Does it, uh, does it make him a girl?”

A girl? What?

“No,” There’s no room for arguments here, “No, he’s still your brother, still my son, it doesn’t change anything. It won’t change anything, except if he wants it to.”

“So we just act like nothing happened?”

“We act like Sam wants.” It’s strange, so strange to hear his father bow down to whatever Sam desires. It’s so unusual that it triggers something in Sam’s brain, there is fear in his body now. “It happened to him, not to us, we don’t get a say in how he reacts to it or how he wants to live with it.... until I find a cure, I _will_ find a cure.”

Sam steps away from the door, there’s something wrong, something wrong with _him_ , but he doesn’t get it. That beast, Dean was right, it only attacked women, virgins at that, both things that Sam isn’t, he knows what he doesn’t with his brother is wrong and dirty and bad, and he knows that most people consider virginity to only be taken when there is penetration, but Dean’s mouth on his dick, his fingers on his rim, it has to count for something. He’s no virgin, he’s not a woman either, and yet, there is unease in his guts, fear crawling on his spine, he walks to the bathroom, bangs the door closed behind him. He tears the pants off himself, claws out of the shirt and stands naked in front of the mirror. His face, dark hair falling on hazel eyes that don’t look like his father’s or his brother’s and a pointy nose that has gotten him a few mockeries in school. His chest is the same, thin and tan, you can see his ribs, the dots under his skin made by his sternum, he moves to his arms, frail, his legs, long and getting longer. He doesn’t want to look between, doesn’t want confirmation to the fear, he takes a deep breath.

There it is, the consequence. A smooth, dark pubis.

He’s not sure if he screamed before or after seeing it, he doesn’t know what is happening, doesn’t know what to make of all of this, but he’s on the ground, crying and Dean is here, hugging him tight, enclosing him in his arms, then there is his father, covering him up with a blanket, whispering something and Sam knows, he knows he was lying, it does change things.

“Sammy, Sammy, it’s okay,” Dean, kissing his hair, pushing it back, they’re careful around Dad, they try to not touch too much in front of him, afraid that he will know by just looking at the way their hands fit together. “I got you, Sam, I got you.” 

But it’s different now, Sam is different, he got hurt, he got changed and Dean wraps the blanket around him, wipes the tears off his cheek and Sam lets himself get carried back to the bed, he lets his father cradle his head and hug him too.

“I’m going to find a cure, Sam, it’ll be okay.”

He falls asleep to the sound of Dean humming and his father’s hand on his cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

John doesn’t find a cure, because their life is a nightmare and Sam is its next victim. He goes on hunts alone for months, he kills a hundred of these things that have cursed Sam, he goes to witches, healers, he summons demons and interrogates them but to no avail. Sam spends the first three months hidden in whatever room they end up in, he barely eats, he doesn’t want to shower in fear of seeing himself naked, he stays under the covers, sweating through his pajamas, sleeping or reading, closed from the rest of the world. 

Dean doesn’t sleep next to him anymore. It shouldn’t make Sam cry so much, but it does. 

He’s sleeping when his brother shakes him awake with a glass of orange juice and cereals in hand, he feels sticky and sweaty, he doesn’t want to be seen, especially not by Dean, but he lifts his weak body and grabs the spoon Dean gives him.

“You reek, dude.”

Dean sits next to him, taking a place Sam didn’t want to give him, he’s drinking coffee, black. Sam remembers like yesterday the time where Dean thought coffee tasted like shit and drank hot chocolate with him, but Dad drinks black coffee, so now, well, Dean does too.

“Go away.”

Dean looks at him with a sort of pity in his eyes, it makes Sam wants to spit the orange juice back in his face. “You have to eat, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.”

Dad doesn’t go by  _ Johnny _ , and since they all have to be like him here, Sam can play that game too.

“Leave me alone.”

“Sam-”

He downs the juice, swallows three spoons of cereal and thrusts the bowl back in Dean’s hands, turning in his blanket, burying himself under it. He hears a sigh, the sound of something on the bedside table and then he is lifted in the air, blanket and all. 

“Dean!” He yells, kicking and flailing around, “Put me down!”

His brother doesn’t reply, just walks and Sam tries to get his head out of the duvet, he tries to bite at Dean’s shoulder through it, anything to get out of his brother’s grip. 

A door opens, he is thrown in the bathtub, he gets an arm out of his cocoon, tries to get up, clutching at the porcelain edge before Dean turns the shower on, drenching a kicking and screaming Sam from head to toe. 

“You motherfuckering-”

Soap in his hair, on his face, rough fingers untangling the knots he hasn’t cared to brush away. He tries to punch Dean’s junk from where he’s sitting, but his brother grabs his arm with his left hand and keeps shampooing him with the right, it’s as embarrassing as it is impressive.

“Stay still,” Dean says, soft and loving.

“Fuck you!”

His blanket, now soaked and heavy, is tossed away, and Sam is left alone under the spray, his pajamas clings to him, they’re almost transparent, once upon a time, they could have seen his bulge under the cotton thin wet fabric, now there is just a flatten plane he does not want to think about.

“Get your clothes off,” His brother demands, already tugging at Sam’s shirt.

“Fuck you! No!”

“ _ Sam… _ ” Another tug, he’s going to tear Sam’s shirt off if he continues, maybe that’s his plan, actually, maybe Dean is just going to tear it all off and that shouldn’t spark something deep in Sam’s guts, but it does. 

He takes off his shirt, maybe because he wants to calm himself down, maybe he wants to preserve the last bit of dignity he still has. He throws his shirt across the bathroom and crosses his arms. He’s already got goosebumps all over his arms, he’s even trembling a bit. Dean snakes an arm around him, he’s almost sitting in the tub too now and it doesn’t make Sam feel better, back a time, Dean would have been all over him, would have taken this opportunity to rub against Sam’s ass, to press against his chest and maybe kiss his neck. But Dean is mechanical now, he washes Sam’s back quickly, no gentle touches, no proposition in the way his fingers move against Sam’s lower back. Just cautiousness and automatism, Sam feels like he’s going to vomit. 

“Take your pants off, Sammy.” It’s not sultry, it’s not whispered against Sam’s ear, it’s an order, and Sam clamps his hands around his hips.

“No.”

There must be something mean in his voice because Dean steps back, blinks and watches him. He grabs the soap again, Sam watches the way his eyes go back and forth between Sam and his pants. For a second, Sam’s afraid he’s going to try to tear them off too, but Dean gets on his knees, comes closer and god, why does Sam feel sobs shake him from the inside, why does he feel the need to hide and turn to get away from his brother’s helping hands. He knows he’s the baby of the family, it doesn’t make him happy, but he’s aware of it and he fights every day, every single fucking day, not to be the freak of the family and if this is what puts him in the dirt, he won’t get up from this hit, he can’t.

“Sam,” Dean’s hand on his cheek, tenderness in a form Sam hasn’t felt in months, “Baby, look at me.”

He doesn’t want to, his face is a mess of tears and snot, all red and wet, his hair is a soapy mess, but Dean nudges his face towards him and there’s a kiss now, just below his left eye, another on the right, a tongue on his cheek, licking it away. “Sammy, it’s okay, I’m not gonna look if you don’t want me to;”

And isn’t that the problem, because Sam doesn’t want to look, he says he doesn’t, but after the shock, after the panic, he spent a least an hour, twisting himself in every position, standing up on the toilet, trying to look at his new bodily addition. He doesn’t want to look, but he wants to poke and stare and he wants Dean,  _ fuck _ , he wants Dean to know every new inch of him, he wants Dean to explore with his plush lips and his calloused hands. He wants to be unravelled by his brother, he wants to stop feeling like his body is not his own. He has to live with this body, he has to make do with what he’s been given, cursed with, and Dean knows his body, maybe more than he does. He wants the new to become known.

“You don’t touch me anymore,” He mumbles in Dean’s hand.

His brother laughs, quick and genuine, “I’m touching you right now, kiddo.”

Sam looks up, “You know what I mean.”

Dean’s smile slides off his face, his eyes lose some of their shine, there’s always an edge of guilt in Dean’s face when he mentions what there is between them, maybe Sam doesn’t feel it because it’s all he’s ever known, and he knows how fucked up that is, but he can’t hate it, can’t push it away. Dean is all he has, all that is truly his own, he’s not ashamed of this, he can’t be.

“I know it’s different now,” He continues, “I know it’s not, it’s not what you signed up for but,” Swallow back the tears, Winchester, don’t be a fucking baby, “I miss it and I want it back.” Dean’s knuckles go white, his grip on the bathtub seems brutal, the back of his neck is red, his ears are flushed and there is the start of a blush on his nose and cheeks. “Please, Dee, I miss you.”

His brother groans and then Sam is once again up in his arms, he lets himself get lifted this time, he curls in Dean’s embrace and whimpers when his brother places him on the bed. He’s still damp, he feels his hair curls on his nape and he shivers when Dean takes a few steps back. He watches him throw his shirt across the room, steps out of his pants and then glides back over Sam’s tremor ridden body. Dean is warm all over, his body exudes heat, Sam folds himself next to him, tries to absorb it all.

“You missed me, Sammy?” Teeth on his neck, leaving bruises that make him ache, “You missed how big brother touches you?”

Sam moans and nods, Dean’s hands are travelling from his chest to his stomach, rubbing circles on his navel, “You gotta tell me what you want, baby brother, you gotta tell me what I can do for you.”

“Want you to fuck me,” Sam’s not a blushing virgin, he wasn’t one either when he was, actually, a virgin. “Want to feel you.”

Dean shudders and goes at Sam’s nipples, he bites and licks and Sam buckles under the treatment. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Sammy.”

“You won’t.” There is no question in his mind that Dean won’t take care of him, no doubt that Dean won’t treat him like a precious thing needing to be handled with reverence.

Dean’s fingers trail to the back of his pants and Sam takes his hand, because no, not like this, he presses it to his crotch, and watches how big Dean’s eyes get at the first contact.

“Sam, are you sure? You don’t have to do this for me, I don’t want to-”

“Dean,” He thinks his mouth forms his brother’s name in the shape of a heart, “Dean, I want it so bad.”

But his brother doesn’t move, so Sam grabs at his pants, pushes them off and spreads his legs, it’s as obvious as he’s gonna get.

“Fuck, Sammy…”

The hunger in Dean’s eyes makes him look away, “That’s the idea, yeah.”

A chuckle moving between his legs, and Sam has half the mind to push Dean’s head away, “I’m not clean, Dee, don’t-”

But Dean is already there, two fingers holding Sam open, another gently flicking something that makes Sam’s back lift off the bed.

“Sammy, if you could see it,” Dean is breathing heavily, it makes Sam try to twist away again, but that finger, the one that makes him lose it, rubs and rubs. “You’re so pink and smooth,” And god, Dean gets closer, blows warm air all over and then sinks his tongue deep inside of him. It makes him weep and reach for the head of the bed as well as Dean’s hair, it’s almost too good, so much that he has to shove him away, but then Dean laps at that spot again and presses a finger inside of Sam, the pressure, that split second of pain makes Sam cry, big tears that are shaking him, making Dean’s fingers thrust deeper and deeper.

His brother pokes his head out of Sam’s legs, his chin is covered in slick, glossy and dripping, “You taste so good, Sam, want to lick you all day.” And then he’s gone again, a second finger joins the movement, Sam’s breath is punched out of him in regular intervals.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts, only one second he’s lost in the feeling and then the second it bubbles over, it reaches his peak and Sam screams and shakes and doesn’t stop. He whines when Dean keeps going and finally pushes him off, he doesn’t seem hurt, he only slides up, presses a kiss to Sam’s forehead who wipes the moisture away with a limp hand and gets close.

“Dean, I want, I want you to.”

His brother frowns, kisses Sam’s lips and bites the bottom one, he tastes faintly like sour, but there is a hint of sweetness underneath.

“Dean,” He says again, “I want you to do it.”

“Sam, I can’t, it’s gonna hurt now,” But Sam shushes him, tries to climb over him with his tired limbs. Dean doesn’t let him, he rolls them around and stands over Sam, he’s still wearing boxers, but Sam can’t make the shape of his dick underneath. He’s held it before, held it in his hands and in his mouth, he’s felt the tip rest on his ass in the middle of the night, he’s tasted Dean’s come and swallowed it down before he was even thirteen. But this is new, this is something they haven’t shared yet and he can’t wait, he just wants to feel Dean, to be the one, for once, who wraps himself around his brother and gives him something good, something candy-like and pretty.

Pink all over, he said.

“Dean,” He kisses his brother, encloses his head between his arms and breathes in Dean’s clean sweat, the scent of his shampoo, the one they all share but that always seems honeyed on him.

Dean takes one of his legs, Sam feels butter-soft, pliant and snug. There is a moment of blind search, some probing, a careless finger here and there, but then, Dean caresses the mount of Sam’s pubs and he drives in.

It’s not what Sam expected, it’s not hysteria, not something so world-breaking that his perception of his existence shifts with it, but it’s good, it’s Dean and it makes him whimper gently.

“Fuck,” Dean groans,” God, Sammy, so fucking tight for me.” A thrust, Sam let’s out a whine, “You’re so fucking good, baby, so nice around my dick.” Another, they both shake with it, ”Feels like you were built for it.” A third and Sam grabs at Dean’s back, digs his nails into it, “I’m not wearing a condom, Sam, I could get you pregnant.”

Sam can’t answer, he’s drooling, his abdomen flexes mechanically with each of Dean’s shoves, “I could get your cute pussy all pregnant for me, could get you round with it on your first time, you want that?”

He’s wrecked, he can’t think, can’t do anything but moan and scratch at his brother’s skin, he feels mindless and owned, like the dick inside of him has reached inside his skull and melted all of his intelligence.

“Almost there, Sammy,” Dean’s voice is rough, “Gonna come because of you, all because of you.” And here it is again, that finger on Sam that makes him feel sparks at the end of his spine, “You like when I play with your clit? It’s so pretty, Sam, so cute, I want to kiss it all the time.”

Another flick at it, his clit, and Sam comes apart, he screams from the bottom of his lungs and Dean does too, muffles it in Sam’s neck, bites it so hard that Sam feels a trickle of blood pour. It’s something he’s never felt before, he’s not sure he’ll ever feel it again, but god does he want to.

Dean settles next to him, he’s a little breathless, but he’s glowing, happiness bright on him like the sun, his freckles pop on his flushed skin and Sam lays a sloppy kiss on the bridge of his nose.

They stay like this for a while, silent but content, kissing sweetly and touching without any intent. Then Dean brushes his hair back, stares deep in his eyes.

“I didn’t want you to think I liked you better like this,” He says, “I know what I’m doing, with, uh, you know.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, “Vaginas?”

Dean shrugs, “Yeah.”

“You can fuck it but not say it?”

“Shut up,” He laughs, but he continues, “What I meant is, I just, didn’t want you to think that I preferred this over what you were like before, because the truth is, I like you all the time, Sam. I like all of you, whatever that is.”

Sam kisses the corner of his mouth, he still tastes like him, it makes him smile, “I know, you do. I love you too.” 

Dean hides in his hair, breathes in and out before he pulls at Sam’s tender nipple, “Don’t go get sappy on me now, bitch.”

“Shut up, you’re such a jerk it’s unreal.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I bet you, you won’t find another jerk that fucks as well as me.”

It’s rather easy, after everything, to lean on Dean and try to choke his smirk with a pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

College is not what Sam expected, it’s loud and dirty and sometimes people say the dumbest shit Sam has ever heard in his eighteen years of miserable life, but it’s freedom in the shape of boozed-up frat parties and cheap weed flavored shit.

He misses Dean every single day, misses his brother like crazy, every single of his quirks, all of his weird sayings, his music, his food, the way he smiles and laughs and makes faces at Sam when their father doesn’t look. He misses his Dad too, but the deepest wound in him is one only his brother can fill.

Talking about this, college is not at all what he expected in the sex department. Sam isn’t much of a party animal, nor is he big on one night stands, but sometimes a guy has needs and nobody seems able to fit the job.

He tries to hook up with straight girls, they send him away when they don’t feel his dick harden. He tries with gay guys, who call him a tranny (and he broke a few teeth for that one, it’s one thing to not want, it’s another to treat him, and others, like abominations. He avoids those snobbish gay guys from Lambda Phi Epsilon like the plague now.) He almost gets a good thing with Brady, he’s a good friend and a good lay, but he’s not as good as Dean, not even close, and Sam has an itch so deep, he needs someone to scratch it for him like he needs the sun to rise every morning.

And then, when he thinks all hope is lost, he meets Jess. 

You wouldn’t think, seeing her, that she can fuck a guy like a pro. She’s lovely, the type of girl you introduce to your parents and cherish because there is only one of her in the world. She’s smart, quick-witted and funny in a way that makes Sam fold in two, and she’s passionate. She will spend hours waxing poetry about horror movies and rock bands from the seventies, she’ll headbang while baking some sort of chocolate monstrosity that will sit on Sam’s stomach for hours and, once in a while, she’ll eat out Sam’s pussy like her life depends on it.

She’s the closest he gets to an orgasm like the ones Dean has given him, she makes him curl his toes and whimper like a wounded animal, but it doesn’t electrify him deep in his core. Still, he can live with this, he can spend his life on the other side of Jess’ two heads dildo and lick at the inside of her mouth when she comes.

Then Dean breaks in his apartment, drives him to Jericho with a hand on his thigh, shoots a ghost for Sam, saves him from a fire and lets him cry in his arms while the scent of Jess’ burning hair evaporates.

Being back on the road with Dean is something that keeps Sam awake at night, not only because he’s haunted by nightmares, but because every second he waits for the other shoe to drop. He doesn’t get to keep things he loves, he couldn’t save Jess, he won’t be good for Dean, in the long run.

But Dean stays and Dean takes him on hunts, treats him like a partner, he laughs at Sam’s jokes, he mocks Sam’s food, sings loudly in the car and lets Sam hug him when the nightmares get too dark. They’re good, great even; but they are not what they were before.

Then Sam meets Cassie, and everything finally makes sense.

Of course, Dean doesn’t want what they used to have, who wants a grieving, annoying baby brother when you have a girl, so fucking beautiful it hurts, that waits for you, that still loves you and wants you back. And then Cassie says goodbye, Dean gets back in the car and doesn’t talk about her, doesn’t even seem sad to have left her, again.

Sam doesn’t get it, he’s just waiting for the moment Dean will drop him, and they come close, Sam walks to a bus station alone before running back, and still, Dean won’t leave, but he won’t make the first step either.

It all comes crashing down when Sam gets kidnapped.

When they’re off the Benders’ property and away from that cop’s inquiring eyes, Dean topples them off in the grass on the side of the road and lodges his face in Sam’s neck. It fits better than it did before, he’s taller now, larger, he can wrap his arms around Dean and truly shelter him.

“Don’t ever do this again, I fucking mean it, Sam.”

He laughs, smoothes out Dean’s hair, the gel having melted off a while ago, “I didn’t really mean to get taken, you know.”

“I don’t care. No more weird sisterfuckers, no more cages, we’re getting to a motel and staying there for at least three days. The time to get back on our feet.”

“You got a lot of nerve calling them sisterfuckers when you-” He cuts himself before he can finish, they don’t talk about, they never do, even when they were still together like _that_. Dean stands up, ignores his mumbled apology and just hoists Sam up.

“Let’s go.”

They walk back to the car in complete silence, they drive like this too and Dean doesn’t reply to any of Sam’s attempts before they reach their motel room and then, Sam is pinned to a wall.

“What the-”

“Listen to me,” Dean starts, there is something feral in the yellow ring around the green of his eyes, “I didn’t want to press you, I didn’t want to make you fucking uncomfortable because you lost your girlfriend and our life is fucking shit, but Sammy,” It’s almost a whine, Dean doesn’t whine, not seriously at least, not when it’s not about breakfast sausages or some other meaningless shit. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

Sam grabs at his jacket, tries to pinch at the muffin top Dean’s been sporting since they got back together and that Sam jerks off to in the shower, three fingers deep inside of him, thinking about his brother’s soft stomach. “You should have said something.”

“I’m the big brother, Sam, I can’t just, try to get you to sleep with me, I don’t wanna be even more of a pervert.” 

“You’re afraid of molesting me, Dean? Afraid of the coercion?” He says it with the nastiest tone he can muster, something that will make Dean’s blood boil with anger and lust, that’s how he gets the best fuck, when Dean’s a little amped up, he remembers his farewell fuck before Stanford with a lot of fondness. “I think that boat has sailed when I was twelve.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sam,” Dean’s hand envelop his throat in a delicate but risky grip, Sam lets his head loll around, like a doll getting picked up from the ground. “You can’t say shit like this.”

“What do you want me to say, Dean?” He licks at his brother’s jaw, straining against the fleshy collar on his neck. “You wanna know how I slept with guys in Stanford, trying to find one who could fuck me as well as you? You wanna know how I had to ask Jess to gag me when she used her strap-on because I was afraid of screaming your name?” He knows he’s close of making his brother lose it, he can almost taste it. “Wanna know how I haven’t come as hard with anyone else has I have with you?”

Dean groans, something low and aggressive, he flips them on his bed, the one closest to the door with the covers undone. He used Sam’s neck to throw him and Sam can feel the shape of his fingers print themselves on the pale skin of his throat. He wants to feel raw, he wants it black and purple. 

“One day I’m gonna plug you up, Sammy,” Dean roars in his ear, “One day, I’m going to fuck you so hard, and plug your ass, play with it while your little pussy makes my dick wet.”

Sam feels spent already, “Fuck, Dean, fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the plan.” The memory of the first time hangs above them and when Dean gets his cock inside, no prep, no sweet words against his clit, Sam makes a noise so loud, he feels like he’s back there, in that crummy motel room with the sheets smelling like sweat and semen. 

“It was the same for me too, Sammy,” A thrust, Sam feels fifteen again, “Couldn’t find a pussy as tight as yours anywhere, nobody as sweet as you, baby boy.”

This time, Sam climbs his brother successfully, rides him hard, his pussy leaking on Dean’s dick so much, his brother’s groin is soaked. “Maybe you fucked me too good, Dean, fucked a hole in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did, Sammy,” Dean’s hands find his hips, Sam grinds and wails when Dean propels up, he feels broken, pieces of himself displayed at the altar of his brother’s mouth, and fingers, and dick, and his laugh, his frown and all of what makes him Dean. This is where he belongs. “And now I’m going to fill it.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments are deeply appreciated!!
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://itstartswithbloodshed.tumblr.com/)


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